


Secluded

by Satine86



Series: Lace Smut [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, No Plot/Plotless, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6905551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric bit back a curse. She was a menace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secluded

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece for the.. uh.. infamous? lace smut series. This has been sitting in my drafts folder for MONTHS so I finally decided to free it into the wild.

As far as political parties went, Varric thought this one was exceptionally boring. Usually Orlesian affairs had at least one highlight, perhaps a jilted paramour confronting their former lover. A disagreement, a drunken display. Juicy gossip to pass along to Nightingale or Ruffles. 

_Something._

This one though? It was so mind numbingly dull Varric thought he might fall asleep right where he stood. 

The one highlight, aside from the fact that he hadn't been forced into the uncomfortable red uniform from the Winter Palace, was the fact that neither had Cassandra. Instead she'd been cajoled into wearing a dress. Or had she been Tricked? Bribed? He wasn't exactly sure how Ruffles had managed it, but she had and it was glorious. The dress was a shade of dark burgundy that reminded him of mulled wine, and clung to Cassandra in an exceedingly pleasing way. And there was a tiny bit of lace that covered her chest, to 'keep it modest', but to Varric it was beyond obscene. 

She knew it too. 

Every so often she would catch his gaze across the room, smile in a soft, secret way while one hand rose to toy with the lace. Every time she did so, he was reminded of the ridiculous lace pieces she had seemingly grown fond of wearing. He wondered if she wore one now, perhaps it was even burgundy. He thought he would have a fine time investigating later that night. Alone in their room. 

Maker, would the party ever end?

Unfortunately it was still far from over when Cassandra found him at the drinks table. She stopped at his side, took the glass of wine from his hand as if he had offered it to her. She smiled at him as she took a sip. 

“You look very handsome tonight, Varric.”

“And you look...” he trailed off, cleared his throat. “You look stunning.” 

Cassandra smiled again and handed back his glass. Then she stooped forward, lips nearly brushing his ear. 

“If we were not in the middle of a crowded party, I would ask you to fuck me right here. Hard and fast against the table.” She straightened up again, face completely passive. Varric made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. 

“Oh, and just so you know. This,” she said, lips twisting slightly as her fingers trailed along the cutout covering her chest. “Is the only lace I am wearing tonight.” 

“Cruel woman,” Varric muttered. He closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breath properly. 

“Truly?” She sounded surprised, and Varric blinked up at her, lips pursed. She actually managed to look innocent. “I thought I was being quite accommodating.” 

With that Cassandra swept off toward the Inquisitor with so much poise, he wondered if she'd asked Vivienne for pointers. Either way he was left by the refreshments table with nothing but his imagination. 

 

* * *

 

There reached a point in the evening when Varric lost most of his composure. He'd been leering at Cassandra across the room, not really caring if anyone noticed. She had a glass of wine while she spoke with one Orlesian politician or another, and when they took their leave Cassandra took a sip. Chin lifting slightly, just enough to show the long column of her neck. Lowering her glass again, she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, catching a droplet. When her tongue darted out to lick her thumb, she met his gaze across the room and smiled. 

Varric bit back a curse. She was a menace. 

He fled the ballroom, found a quiet passage the servants used to and from the kitchens that was thankfully empty. There were two low tables with extra stemware and wine bottles, some chairs that had been shoved out of the way haphazardly, and the ugliest settee Varric had ever laid eyes on. He focused on it, scrubbed a hand down the side of his face and tried not to think of Cassandra. 

Of her lips parted, sighing his name; of her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Shit, that was not helping. He needed to think of things that were not sex. Things that were spectacularly _not_ sexy… Corpse infested waters. The Deep Roads. Corypheus' wrinkly ass. 

Maker, none of it was working. Maybe he should just leave, find a bucket of cold water and dump it over his head. That would have to help. 

“Varric?” 

He whirled around to face Cassandra. She looked regal standing there, shoulders back, neck long, and eyes glowing. A small smile curved her lips, and Varric pointed an accusatory finger at her. 

“You,” he said, voice rough, “are a tease.” 

“Perhaps,” she replied and sauntered closer. Every sway of her hips was exaggerated, not her usual gait, and that made him all the more frustrated. Damn her anyway. 

She smiled wider when she stopped before him, laid her hands on his shoulders. “But you love it when I tease.” 

“Only if you follow through.” He grinned. 

Cassandra blinked owlishly at him. “Who said I would not follow through? There is a reason I did not wear undergarments today, Varric.” 

He heard what she said, but it not did not register. For a moment all he could do was stare up at her, slowly mouthing the words until they fell into something coherent. 

“Wait, _here_?” he asked, looking around. 

“It is quiet,” she said and lifted a shoulder gently. Then she slipped her hands from his shoulders, looping her arms around his neck and closing the gap between them. Looking down at him with hooded eyes, she smiled again. A challenge. 

“Unless you would rather not--” 

Reaching up, Varric cupped the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss, cutting off the rest of her words. Cassandra moaned into the kiss, their lips slanted together, her fingers digging into his hair. 

She tasted like wine. 

They shuffled backward until she bumped up against one of the tables, glasses clinking together. Varric broke the kiss, sucked Cassandra's neck, nipped her collarbone.

“Careful,” she gasped. “People will talk if you leave a mark.” 

“Then I won't leave them where anyone can see.” He dropped to his knees, gathered her skirts and shoved them up and over her hips. Varric trailed a hand up her thigh and Cassandra shifted, parted her legs slightly. He could smell her arousal. 

Ducking his head, Varric kissed the long scar on her thigh, repeated the same action on her other thigh before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Above him Cassandra's breath hitched. He continued a path upward, enjoying every time her breathing changed. 

He was so close to his target, felt her open her legs just a little wider. Then the door opened at the other end of the hall. Before Varric could even think what to do. Cassandra was dropping her skirts over him and hissing at him to move under the table.

So he did. 

Cassandra's skirts did well to hide him, and he was fairly certain the table did a fine job concealing anything else, like his feet. She had turned to face the newcomer, and frankly Varric could think of worse hiding places. 

Trapped under her skirts he was confronted with a lot of leg. Long, tanned, muscular and completely bare from the ankle up. So many thoughts whirred around his mind. 

“Lady Cassandra.” The voice was slightly muffled by the layers of fabric, but Varric recognized it as their host. “Are you well? You look flushed.” 

Varric had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He leaned his cheek against her leg, could feel her tense slightly at the contact. He grinned.

“Y-yes, Comte.” Her voice sounded strained. Varric's smile widened and he trailed a finger up her calf. “I was only taking a moment, I am a little overly warm from the party.”

“I see, it is terribly stuffy in there.” The Comte had moved closer to Cassandra, his voice growing clearer. Varric could distinctly remember the man spending an inordinate amount of time flirting with Cassandra when they had first arrived. 

“I would be a terrible host if I left you alone,” the Comte was saying, obviously trying for something akin to suave and failing. 

Varric barely managed to hold back an incredulous snort. 

“No, Comte, you should not leave your guests. I am perfectly fine on my own.” Cassandra did an admirable job at keeping her voice even, if not a little breathless. 

Pressing a kiss to Cassandra's outer thigh, Varric moved his hand between her legs. He could hear Cassandra's breath whoosh out as she shifted her weight. Moving away from his hand, she crossed her legs at the ankle, pressed them together. 

“Are you certain you're well?” the Comte asked. “You're looking even more flush, perhaps you would like to step out onto the veranda? It is lovely out tonight, it's clear enough to see the stars.” 

Undaunted by the fact she had moved, Varric continued to press kisses to her thigh, sucking and nibbling as he went. She tried to subtly squirm away, though he knew full well she couldn't move much without alerting the Comte. 

Smiling to himself, Varric brought his hand up the back of Cassandra's leg, fingers trailing along her thigh. He debated for a second before reaching up and pinched her ass. Firmly. 

“No!” Cassandra cried at the same moment, jumping slightly. Varric buried his face against her thigh to keep from laughing out loud. He could feel her attempt to take in a calming breath. 

“I mean to say,” she continued in a steadier voice. “I am well. Just in need of a moment to collect my thoughts.” 

“Are you certain, Lady Cassandra?” The Comte sounded even closer now, and Cassandra tensed again. She braced her feet apart, a fighting stance. Oh, great. 

“Yes, Comte. I believe I am more than capable of assessing my own health. Now, if you would be so kind as to give me a moment? _Alone_.” 

There was a long moment of silence, then a defeated sigh. “Of course, Lady Cassandra.” 

Varric wasn't sure the Comte had even left until he heard the door at the end of the hall click shut. Then there was a scramble as Cassandra stepped away from the table, pulling her skirts with her. She glared down at him, her cheeks stained crimson. He smirked at her. Her scowl deepened. 

“You are a wicked, wicked dwarf!” 

Climbing out from under the table, he feigned innocence, looking up at her and batting his eyes demurely. “Have I done something to displease you, _Lady Cassandra_?” 

“Varric, do not dare.” 

“Or what?” he challenged. Cassandra narrowed her eyes and bent forward to whisper in his ear. 

“Or,” she said, running a hand up the inside of his leg. “I will leave you to your own devices.” She trailed her fingers over his length before withdrawing her hand, and straightening up to her full height. 

“Tease.” Varric tutted.

“Would you like me to leave….?” she trailed off, taking a step. Varric caught her wrist, lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“We both know you're not leaving.” 

“No,” she murmured. “I suppose not. If you can give me sufficient reason to stay.” 

“I thought I was doing a pretty good job of that before we were interrupted.” 

“Were you?” Cassandra tapped her chin, head tilted thoughtfully. “I am having trouble recalling.”

Varric took in a deep breath, let it out slowly while he eyed her. Two could play that game. “Well, if you really don't remember. Maybe it's for the best we just go back to the party? I'm certain the Comte will be thrilled.” 

They looked at each for a moment, Cassandra with her eyes narrowed. Finally she sighed, wrinkled her nose in a way Varric found adorable. 

“You are terrible,” she said.

“You started it.” 

“Then I suppose it falls on you to finish it.” 

There was a pause, an intake of breath. Then they were pressed against each other, teeth clacking as they crushed their lips together. He wasn't sure how they maneuvered themselves toward the hideous settee, but he was very pleased when Cassandra tumbled back against it. 

She righted herself quickly, gripping the lapels of his jacket and craning her neck to kiss him again. Varric framed her face and deepened the kiss, rather enjoying the change in their heights. Cassandra shifted closer, pressed herself against his leg and made the most the erotic sound he had ever heard. He groaned in response. 

Without breaking the kiss, she leaned back, and pulled him along with her until he was nearly sprawled on top of her. He braced one hand on the back of the settee, his knee on the edge of the cushion. Cassandra shifted her skirts, and continued to press herself against him, rocking her hips slightly. 

Their kisses turned more frantic, and he could feel the heat of her whenever she rubbed against his leg. The noises she made were his undoing, delicious little whimpers in the back of her throat every time she swirled her hips. 

She was perfectly unclothed for a secret tryst in some Comte's home. He, on the other hand, was terribly overdressed. Varric pulled back, moved to the opposite end of the settee, shrugging out of his jacket and going to undo his pants. 

He stopped when Cassandra moaned, looked up to find her leaning against the armrest, skirts thrown up and legs open so she could touch herself. Varric's breath hissed out, gaze darting between her face, with half-lidded eyes and lips red from his kisses, to her fingers drawing slow, lazy circles. 

His heart hammered against his chest, all the blood rushing to his cock until it throbbed. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

Cassandra moaned again, licked her lips. “Is that why you are over there?” She dipped a finger lower, and he was keenly aware of how wet she was. “To admire me?”

Varric bit back a groan, fumbled with his trousers and wished he could take her right now. It had been a long night, and she was probably the most frustrating person he had ever met. 

He wouldn't change a thing. 

The sounds Cassandra were making were beyond obscene, and… damn it all, he was so hard. Just as he was close to finally – fucking _finally_ – freeing himself and casting aside his twice blighted trousers, Cassandra lurched forward and kissed him soundly. 

She slid her leg over his, settling herself on top of his thigh. She wound her arms tightly around his neck as she continued to kiss him like she might never get the chance again. For his part, all Varric could do was return her fervor, his arms locked around her waist. 

Even through his trousers, Varric could feel her, feel her heat… feel how ready she was. Then Cassandra started rocking her hips slowly. She moaned into the kiss, low in the back of her throat. 

His cock twitched, his desire getting the better of him. 

Cassandra continued to move against him, humming her pleasure. She was going to finish like that, he realized. She was going to come while grinding his thigh. Varric was so focused on that thought, he hardly noticed when she dipped her hand between them, not until her fingers traced his length. 

The sound that tore from his throat was somewhere between a moan and a whine, and he could feel Cassandra smile into the kiss. 

With his trousers nearly undone, it was easy enough for her to slip her hand inside and grasp him. Her hand was warm, and it was all he could not to spill himself at contact alone. Varric bunched his hand in the excess material of her skirt, and kissed her hard. 

“Fuck, you are amazing,” he gasped. 

“Am I?”

“Yes–“ He stopped, swallowed. “You are beautiful and I want to see you undone. Will you do that for me?” 

She hummed her appreciation and stroked him, her hips moving more quickly against his leg, the languid rhythm gone. The only sound in the room was her desperate panting and the rustle of her skirts.

Everything hinged on her movements. Varric only acting like an anchor as she writhed and moaned and stroked him. When she was close, her body tense and hot, a fine sheen of sweat gathering on her brow, she buried her face into his hair and cried out. Her body jerked and throbbed, hips bucking mindlessly as she rode out her climax. 

Listening to her, feeling her hot and writhing above him, her hand pumping him, Varric was not far behind. It only took a few more strokes, and he could feel the heat building in his stomach, his body tensing. Cassandra straightened up, twisted her hand just so and Varric had to bury his face between her breasts to quiet his shout as he came. 

Heart thundering in his ears, he placed a kiss at the bit of skin above the lace of her dress. Looking up at her, with her cheeks flush and lips swollen, she was stunning. 

Cassandra bent forward and kissed him, slowly, her hand reaching up to smooth back his hair. Resting her forehead against his, they stayed like that for a long while, catching their breath and calming their racing hearts. She was the first to move, pulling away and standing on still shaky legs. 

“Not sure how we're going to explain this...” Varric trailed off, gestured between them. 

“What is to explain?” Cassandra primly fixed her skirts, fluffing them out again and smoothing her bodice. She fanned face briefly, cooling pink cheeks. When she was done, she truly looked no worse for the wear. Varric on the other hand…. He knew he must look a mess. Face ruddy, hair wild from her fingers raking through it. Not to mention his ruined trousers. 

He looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “You're cruel.” 

Cassandra grinned. “You enjoyed yourself, did you not, my love?” 

“I did, but how am I going to escape?” He pointed to his thigh, the obvious damp spot. 

Turning on her heel, Cassandra strode toward the door. For a moment he thought she might just leave on his own. Something he would get her back for later. At the last moment, she stopped with her hand on the latch and looked at him over her shoulder. 

“I will fetch my shawl, it will do well to hide things. And then,” she added as she stepped through the door, “shall we continue this in our room at the inn?”

“Promises, promises.” 

“Oh?” Cassandra arched both brows. “If you would rather not–“

“You're a tease,” he said, voice fond. 

Her grin widened. “Always.”


End file.
